


Neutralized

by icandrawamoth



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Legends - All Media Types, Star Wars Legends: X-Wing Series - Aaron Allston & Michael Stackpole
Genre: Angst, Assassination, Bombs, Character Death, Experimental Style, Mild Blood, Short, Stream of Consciousness, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-20
Updated: 2020-02-20
Packaged: 2021-02-27 22:04:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 373
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22812736
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/icandrawamoth/pseuds/icandrawamoth
Summary: This was not an accident.
Comments: 1
Kudos: 5





	Neutralized

**Author's Note:**

  * For [aphorisnt](https://archiveofourown.org/users/aphorisnt/gifts).



> Aphorisnt submitted the first line for a Tumblr prompt.

Blood pools on the ground around the crumpled body and soaks into the bright orange material of the flight suit, staining it a dark crimson.

Adrenaline pounds through Wedge's veins, his ears ringing as shock and horror make his thoughts seem to run in slow motion.

Explosion. There had been an explosion in the hangar. Tycho had been doing a walk-around of his Headhunter as they prepared to go up and–

Tycho is lying on the floor, a mess of familiar orange and terrible red.

Wedge is running. Not a thought to wait for an all-clear or a medical team or safety squad. He can't.

But there's no use rushing. Wedge knows long before he's close enough to check for a pulse that he won't find one. He's seen what explosions do to people, and Tycho was at the epicenter of this one.

Wedge turns away, sickened. The remains of the Headhunter stare back at him, a broken skeleton. The cockpit has been shattered from beneath, the S-foils blown completely away, and Wedge is hit with sudden a cold certainly.

The bomb. The device stripped to Tycho's ship to destroy him if he tried to go rogue due to Isard's imaginary programming.

This was not an accident.

No one will listen. It _was_ an accident, a tragic one, they say. Wedge is grieving, they say, and looking to place blame. It's a blessing, they say, that no one else was hurt.

The Intelligence tech in charge of maintaining the bomb is slapped on the wrist and makes a public apology. Staged, Wedge is sure.

Wedge won't rest. He keeps asking questions, keeps getting nowhere. Sometimes he doubts himself, thinks maybe his best friend's death really was just a terrible fluke, before his will reasserts itself.

Years pass with no progress. Then one day Wedge receives an unmarked envelope containing only a datacard. On that datacard, a single file.

A series of communiques, highly redacted. No names and full of technical terms and code words. A plan, and a secretive one – this is Intelligence material, Wedge is certain of it.

The last message in the file is stamped with a date Wedge will never forget and includes only three simple words: _potential threat eliminated._


End file.
